Delusional Words From An Insane Writer

I completed reading Ray Bradbury’s seminal work ‘Fahrenheit 451’ after a long time. It evoked strong emotions in me. I guess being a writer and voracious reader (and a bit insane), words and books are important to me. And to everyone else. It’s been two years since Mr. Bradbury c passed away and I still can connect with him, through his words, through his thoughts that he penned down years ago.

I imagined what my reaction would be if I was in Montag’s place. What took form was a poem. I hope you enjoy it.

I remember, a time
When worries were few
And days were warm.
Of farmhouse and hay
The smell of earth, dry
Yet delicious.

I remember, a time
When I gorged on words
Long and short, I consumed
Them all. The thoughts of
Men, dead and living
Became mine.

I remember, a time
When on porches people sat
Staring at the ephemeral
Vistas beyond, thinking
Nay, exploring the infinite
Realms of the Universe’s mysteries

I remember, a time
When all was not lost.
When thoughts flowed out
From mouth to ear, not just
Words. When lives still had
A drop of meaning in them.

And though all this
Belongs to an age bygone
I still wish and I still
Remember. Through the
Ashes do I walk. The
Fires, they rage on, in
Eternal beauty.

Here the city lies, burning
Bright in the morning light
But I feel no remorse
For the city was dead long ago.
And so the fires do keep burning
Bright, and I shall keep remembering.

Please do let me know what you think of this. Also, what is your favorite memory with a book? Let’s discuss.

And as we both sit here in the dark
Like strangers in a park
I can’t help but wonder
What it is that came in between us
The stars shine down on us
But nature’s beauty isn’t what I search
I look into your eyes, but nothing comes back
It’s as if we’ve never met.
How could this day come,
When you said we’d be together
Forever, as one?
Maybe I’m the stupid one here
Maybe the joke’s on me.
Yet I cannot believe that something
As true as our love could ever be
Nothing more than a prank.
And as we sit here in the dark
No, you’re ready to go, move on
As you call it.
But do remember the words you spoke
All seemed real to me. But you’d rather just leave.
And as I sit here in the dark
I feel like an old man in a park
Left with millions of memories
But no more energy to move on.

“You haven’t been sleeping well. You really should get some sleep, you know.”, said the doctor with a sympathetic smile. Michael stared back at the lanky figure in the white coat.

“Wait, how do you know I don’t …”, began Michael, but was interrupted. “Oh, I know everything. Yes I do.”, replied the doctor with a sinister look in his eyes. “Of course you do. Good day.”, said Michael with disgust as he left the doctor’s office.

He went straighy home, but the words still lingered in his mind. He took out his single malt and poured himself a glass. The whisky, and life, were smooth and yet, there was this nagging feeling in his head.

Something wasn’t right.

Two decades ago, people learnt of how their very lives were being monitored, closely observed, by the very bodies they had brought to power. Michael had heard the common quotation among the elders.

They knew more about you than your own spouse.

Two decades ago, revelation happened. And two decades ago, inaction caused those very structures to probe further into the lives of people everywhere.

Michael looked at his wrist watch. He stared at his real time vital signs on the screen. So did the doctor. Later that night, Michael tossed and turned. He finally knew why he couldn’t sleep. It was all the eyes, staring at him, as he walked about and slept, peering into his very privacy and soul. It was all the ears, probing every little word that came out of his mouth. He sighed and readied himself for another long night.

Something wasn’t right.

[ This short story was inspired by Reset The Net, an online protest against mass surveillance of citizens. The day of protest has passed, but there are still many things you can do to know more. Visit Reset The Net to learn about mass online surveillance, how it affects you and those around you, and the steps you can take to protect your privacy online. I also recommend checking PRISM-Break, to get open-source and free alternarives to softwares and services you use on a daily basis.]

Recent events in my life have been pretty tough on me. Things reached a peak when I took the cowardly way out on one of those things. Being mocked by someone you love isn’t exactly fun, to be honest. Nevertheless, writing helped me vent my feelings and thankfully, I’m feeling a bit better now.

Living an aimless lifeWhile my relations crumble beside meSometimes life gets too toughAnd though I wish it awayThe coward in me wins.I’m forced to run, notFace the problem I have at hand.Call me what you willThink of me what you will.But you will never truly feelMy condition, nor perceiveMy point of view. For I amToo deep to fathom and myMind runs in the fae outskirtsOf imagination’s realms.Quarters your little mind can never enter.But enough about me, for the momentIs yours. Bask in your own glory.While I shiver and cowerAnd retreat to my shadowy room.

Dear reader, life is never planned out, for anyone. People come and go, things happen and we are almost always taken by surprise. It isn’t always fun and games, and life can get pretty shitty sometimes. But that’s the good thing. Life isn’t always shitty. No matter how bleak things might seem and no matter how desparate you might, no matter how sure you are of your coming failure, please, persevere. Grit your teeth and go ahead. You will come out of it feeling thankful and happy. But unless you take the first step into the storm, you will never pass the storm.

Admit it, you’ve had your fair share of nostalgia, memories tearing down towards you like a freight train.

Why is it that we humans are SO good at remembering things and recollecting them later, usually at the most inappropriate of times? Forget the good memories, it’s the bad ones, the ones you want to forget but can’t, that make this sort of entry.

Storing and reliving our experiences seems to be hard-wired into our mysterious brains. Just like how we dream, some evolutionary process has instilled into us, the ability to relive those experiences, learn from them, even yearn for those times to come back.

As writers, and as humans in general, this ability gives us things to look back at and smile in old age, and even draw inspiration from when we are down in the dumps. All our senses are triggers that fire upon receiving just the right stimuli. The smell of a perfume an old friend used to wear, the lovely smell of some flower or a place, all are the stimuli that bring back these memories.

But these stimuli can also trigger memories that you want to forget. Controlling them is hardimpossible. You just have to face it till the bout subsides.

As a writer and an insane person with his share of relapses, I find it extremely amazing to think of how these memories are stored in a bundle of tissue, to be retrieved later.

Life would be a dull monochrome show without memories that come in uninvited.

Do let me know what you think of this. Have your own comments or opinions? Do let me know. And please do share if you found this awesome.

A poem on how it feels when you understand the value of something you took for granted; but that thing is slipping away from you.The subject here is a dying person, who finally realises the value of the precious life he had. He merely existed, never lived.

I’m tired, not with fatigue
But with life in general.
I can gather not what I do
Or where I am.

Asphyxia is killing me, for I
Am out of breath, waiting for
Death to come and take me away
To an uncharted destination.

Keep me awake for I feel
As though I am slipping away
Into the vast realm of sleep
Albeit permanent.

I’m too tired to get up and fight
My way back into the world.
The world with all its beauties
And miseries.

Keep me awake because I want
To live. My thirst for life is still
Not quenched. I want to live
Free like a bird in the vast blue sky.

Life is slipping away right under
My very nose. And I can feel the
Aura dimming. Weakening. Keep me awake.

So that I don’t die. So that I can
See. The beauty of the world. The
Dawns and dusks that I never
Cared of. The rivers which flow

With a peculiar harmony. Oh!
I want to see. I want to live.
Keep me awake. Don’t let me die.
For I want to live.

I would love to know your views on this. What do you think? Let me know.And please do share this if you liked it. 🙂

Purple streaks of sunlight fill the evening sky. You step out of your cozy house for a quick stroll after which you will have a silent dinner under the stars that you barely notice. The air is fragrant and light. So light that your breaths carry them away, beyond the horizon, never to return again. Your worries and anxieties still run about in your mind, though you cover them up under a fake smile. Lumps still form in your throat and your heart aches everytime they decide to run amok in your mind. But you wish them away, not wanting to ruin what is otherwise a beautiful evening.

You walk along the streets and can’t help but notice the orange hue on the river, glistening under the last rays of the sun. The river had always been a special place for you. It brought back memories of good times and left you feeling stronger. It was one of those places you wished you could bottle up and enjoy later.

You glide down the streets and notice me sitting on a perk bench. You think I’m happy though you know I’ve always felt tour guides were the happiest people around. Street lights flicker and turn on.

You walk without a clear destination, the promise of a magical place luring you in deeper. For the first time in months you look up at the sky and see the millions of stars that have been waiting for your attention, light years away, yet twinkling as if they were within your grasp. You let your mind wander, free from the heavy thoughts that have been weighing you down for so long.

You hear crickets chirping as the last rays of the sun penetrate the canopy of the forest on a hill outside town, that you’ve always wanted to visit. You see squirrels running around having their final drink of the day, before they drift into the vastness of sleep. Who knows what they might dream about. The air is laden with the smell of flowers far-away. The frangrance is a bit tangy but sweet, you can almost taste it. Stones crunch like potato chips under your feet as you near a hill. It seems the promise of a magical place has brrn fulfilled, but you probe deeper. Everything in this dark place radiates a certain joy and feels magical, yet natural. You can’t help but wonder if this is a dream, and everything in front of you is but a figment of your dormant imagination.

Old dreams are rediscovered as you watch birds drift smoothly into their nests and settling down for the night. Today’s worries and failures are all forgotten. What still remains is the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

The hill is steeper now. The physical exertions bring you back to reality. You turn around and your eyes widen in amazement. The city is bathed in a million points of light, illuminating the place you call home. You realize you’re pretty far away; the city is below you in a valley. Its vey dark now and you are amazed you made it this far, yet you carry on.

Deep in the forest is a clearing, which tonight is filled with moonlight. You walk into the clearing and see the nectar, pouring from heaven to this world of us mortals. The crickets chirp in chorus and there is nothing you can do, but enjoy this spectacular scene, devour it with your eyes and engrave it on your mind. Everything is perfect.

You open your eyes but they are immediately blinded. Your face feels warm. And wet. As your eyes adjust to the light, you feel a wave crash into you. You wake up beside the ocean and realise you’re in Hawaii.